Caroline and Eric were Dutch long-haul cyclists. A chance encounter on the Tok Cut-off, the road less travelled that runs east from the Glenn Highway to the small town of Tok and onwards to the Canadian border. They were two and I was one, so I’d pulled over to their side of the road. But a couple, or father and daughter, I wasn’t sure.
They would soon be heading north to Sourdough to camp that night. I explained I’d come from the south, so had little to offer about the road ahead. Other than there was a couple of dusty, coarse gravel sections ahead. And a small shop where the Cut-off met the highway.
They said I’d have to take a ride in a pilot car in a short while, not permitted to pedal through road works. I grimaced. Explaining that any break from the saddle was usually more than offset by the plain hassle of taking everything off the bike, only to refit it all a little while later.
